Junior: The Day After
by inxpitter
Summary: A short story about the day after Yang beats down Junior at the club. Just a possible take on what could be. I do not own RWBY or its characters. Reviews and general feedback is gratefully appreciated and read thoroughly. Also, I realize the white one is Melanie.


"Argh!"

Junior cried out in pain as he rolled out of bed. His body ached all over, and he grunted as he struggled to stand. He was in the same clothes he was in yesterday, his white dress shirt wrinkled and his black vest unbuttoned so he could breathe easier.

"Junior?"

He looked up. MIltia was leaning on the doorway looking concerned.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, walking into the room. Her make-up was gone now, and she had exchanged her showy crimson dress for a simple shirt and jeans. She had her fair share of injuries, and Junior could tell she had some trouble walking.

"Like I was punched by an Ursine," Junior replied, lightly touching a bruise on his head. Miltia knelt down and pulled out some bandages and ointment.

"Thanks, "Junior said, "how're you and your sister holding up?"

"Melanie took a few more blows than I did, so she's still resting."

Junior flinched as she placed the bandage on his forehead.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Junior, stop being a baby."

She finished securing the bandage and gave it a small pat for good measure. She held out her hand, offering her assistance to the giant of a man.

"How's the club doing?" Junior asked, steadying himself. "Did that blondie rough up the place too bad?"

No response.

"Miltia?"

"I'd rather show you than explain it."

Junior frowned. He frowned as they walked out from the back area onto the main stage, and that frown turned into a look of desperation as he looked over the damages.

"How!?" he exclaimed. There were bullet holes everywhere, and there wasn't a piece of intact glass in the entire building. The bar was in shambles and almost all the musical equipment was beyond repair. Miltia placed a hand on his back, her touch softened his anger leaving mostly sadness.

He leaned on the upper railing, his head hung down. He sighed deeply, as if exhaling would blow this terrible reality go away. A crunch of glass brought his attention to the entrance. A crowd of young partiers had gathered around the entrance, looking curiously into the ruined club.

"Hey Miltia, can you tell the guys that the club'll be closed for the next few days."

"Okay." Miltia walked down the glass scattered staircase and approached the many young men and women. As she began talking, the few people who hadn't realized what was going on began to lose their smiles. Junior couldn't see what they were asking, but they looked concerned. After a few more minutes of talking, they left and Miltia returned to Junior's side.

"They seemed to understand," she told him. Junior shook his head.

"I promised those guys that I'd give them some place to relax. A place where the world doesn't look at them like some kind of background characters. Look what happens? The club ruined, the guys I hired off the streets get beaten within an inch of their lives, and all by one little blondie."

'It'll be okay." Miltia spoke softly.

"I should have never borrowed money from Torchwick," he confessed. He stopped resting on the railing, and walked over to the central music station. He ran his hands over the bullet riddled turntable.

"Can't you pay him back?" Miltia asked.

Junior shook his head.

"Even if I had the money, Torchwick wouldn't let me off with just that. And with the White fang backing him up…"

"The White Fang's involved!?"

Junior started to sweat.

"Forget it, I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it."

"But-"

"The less you know the better. Besides, if I disappear someday, I'll need you and your sister to run the club."

He smiled at his little joke.

Slap!

Junior stepped back in surprise. The sting was small, but the look on Miltia's face was terrifying.

"Don't you ever say something like that!" Miltia's eyes began to tear, and she furiously rubbed them away.

"I just want to make sure-"

Miltia raised her hand again and he stopped talking.

"We're going to fix up the club, dance our hearts out, and live a long and happy life!" she proclaimed, her tears returning.

Junior paused. He had forgotten what Miltia and her sister had gone through, how he had replaced their nightmares with dreams of a better life. He walked forward and embraced Miltia. He had forgotten how much he cared for these girls, as much as he longed for his long-lost daughter. A daughter Torchwick had promised to find.

"I'm sorry," he sincerely apologized, holding her tightly. "You're right. We're not out of the running yet; we just have to keep working hard."

Miltia hugged Junior back, calming down. She nuzzled herself against him, trying to get closer to this feeling of security she loved.

Junior patted her head. It didn't matter if he didn't he believe everything will be alright. As long as the twins were happy, everything would be okay.

"All right," he said. "What do you say to starting the clean-up process? Then we'll go check on Melone."

"All right," Miltia agreed. She released Junior and went downstairs to the mainstage area to get to the janitorial closet.

"Hey Junior! Someone's here to see you!"

Junior walked over to the balcony edge again and peered over. The many adults and punk teens had returned carrying a myriad of buckets, brooms, and dustpans.

"Thought you could use some help!" one of them yelled up at him.

Junior smiled, and went down to meet them. He hadn't shed tears in a long time, and today was no different. But, he felt his heart pang harder than any punch that blondie gave him the other day.


End file.
